Shattering the Myth by Zane

day he was going to marry me. This might sound crazy, but you know what? I believe him!
    After I finished reading the diary entry, I repeated the word, “DAYUMMMMMMMMMM!”
    I couldn’t believe one of my aunts had written it. I guessit’s always hard to picture people older than me being young and having such experiences.
    As I replaced the diary and put all the other things back on top of it, I realized reading it had made my pussy start throbbing. I was so horny and had not a clue what to do. I didn’t bring my vibrator or dildo with me on my trip for two reasons. First of all, because I didn’t want them to show up on the X-ray machines at the airport and secondly, because who in the hell plans on masturbating while on vacation at their grandparents’ house.
    I had to do something, so I closed up the trunk and pushed it back in the corner, grabbed a baton from one of the boxes, pulled the string on the light, and then sat back on the window seat. The only light left in the attic came from the moonlight streaming in through the small square window by the seat and the faint light at the bottom of the stairs emitting from the hallway downstairs.
    I pulled my nightgown up, pushed my panties out the way, and started fucking myself with one end of the baton. The rubber end and cold metal created a strange sensation, one that turned me on even more.
    I pushed more and more of the baton inside me until no more would fit comfortably. I spread my legs open wider and starting grinding my hips on to it like it was a big, juicy dick.
    I used my free hand to undo the top two buttons of my gown so I could caress my breasts. I pushed my right one up as far as I could and swiped my tongue back and forth across my erect nipple.
    This continued on for a good fifteen minutes. The whole time I was imagining the couple in the story who were faceless to me. Yet the woman was obviously one of my mother’s sisters. I was dying to know which one.
    After playing the whole excerpt from the diary out in mymind and fucking myself royally with the baton, I came like a clap of thunder. I sat there for a couple minutes to regain my normal breathing pattern, which had become shallow. It always does after I cum.
    I made sure everything was just like it was before and then tiptoed back down the steps through the closet, shutting the door behind me, and went back to my mother’s bedroom.
    My grandparents were still sleeping soundly. By that time, it was getting pretty late. I may not have been tired before going up the attic but after masturbating like that, falling asleep came easily.
    I woke up the next day still wondering whom the diary belonged to. I devised a plan in my mind to find out.
    Thanksgiving dinner went off beautifully, and I had a great time catching up with my aunts and their families. While we sat around reminiscing about the past, I looked at all of them and couldn’t picture any of them being the woman from the story. They all seemed so demure.
    When they were all putting on their coats and such to leave, I put my plan into action. I told them I had lost my address book and wanted to make sure I had their correct information so I could write to them and call from time to time.
    I went from one to the other, asking that all three of them write down their home address and phone number. Later that evening, while I was munching on a slice of Grandma’s peach pie that I am totally and undeniably addicted to, I looked at the paper.
    All the handwritings were similar. If not for the fact that their names were there, I wouldn’t have known who wrote what. Unfortunately, none of the writing samples looked like the writing from the diary.
    I figured a person’s handwriting does change over theyears, and trying to figure the owner of the diary was a lost cause. I was just so amazed by it, but you win some and you lose some.
    My grandparents took me to the airport the next day to catch my plane back